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Fishing Reports

No Lack of Talent

Joel La Follette - Thursday, October 04, 2018

Christine Switzer Photo

I did manage to go fishing this weekend if you could truly call it that. I spent some time wading in the cool waters of the Metolius with a fly rod in hand making several hundred fruitless casts and a few not so fruitless. That in itself is not an unusual occurrence; a fact that is well documented by those who ply these waters. What made this day more unusual than most is that I had a film crew recording my every move from several different angles, and a crowd of curious onlookers watching the proceedings.

Megan Gray PhotoThis crew, if you must know, was attempting to portray me as a wise graying entrepreneur living out his passion in the fall of his life. Evidently, my unusual career path was found to be intriguing by the account principals so this little band of young talented advertising geniuses was tucked in an airplane in Charlotte, North Carolina and flown out to the Great Northwest. The poor kids didn't know what they were getting into.

When this adventure was first proposed it was to be a simple photo shoot at the shop and perhaps on the Clackamas River. After considering the story I wanted to be told I requested we venture a little further afield to the Deschutes or Metolius. The images of the Metolius I sent evidently won them over, and that is how I found myself casting to Trout with a camera pointed in my face.

Upon arriving at the river I found that even the simple task of wadering up and tying on a fly needed to be well documented; further delaying my angling efforts and establishing that this was not a fishing trip. I resigned myself to the task at hand and became a tour guide, naturalist, conservationist and ambassador for Oregon. Oh, and as they say in the business, "the talent."

Not wanting to drown David the photographer and be responsible for dampening expensive camera equipment I chose a simple location near Bridge 99. Wearing an ill-fitting pair of boot foot waders David looked like a young fawn taking its first steps as he navigated the rocks and boulders in the river. He positioned himself between me and my casting target to capture the intense action of fly casting and the contemplative expression on my face. He didn't like my expression.

It was requested that I look happy to be engaged in my passion while counting down the days of my life. Right. There's a thought that would bring a smile to any face. I decided to think about lunch instead.

Having been casting a fly for well over a half century I was able to easily adapt, smiling and casting like a seasoned professional while retaining a steely-eyed focus on the task at hand. Said focus was suddenly interrupted by a Trout rising to engulf my fly just behind David. Like the true professional he is, David continued to fire off exposures unimpressed with the piscatorial encounter. I, on the other hand, was amazed at this development but held on to my poker face as I released the Trout into the clear waters of this magical river.

Back at camp, I whipped up a Skottle full of my world famous fajitas and we recounted the adventure of the day. Our time together would end the following evening after a brief tour of Oregon and a visit to the shop where this story was supposed to be told, but, as I said, they didn't know what they were getting into.